was greatly in his debt and was ungrateful about it. In his own playtime,
far back in the dim past, he had been robbed of a large part of that
playtime by being compelled to take care of Will. Will was a baby then,
and then, as now, their mother had spent her days in the mills. To Johnny
had fallen the part of little father and little mother as well.

Will seemed to show the benefit of the giving over and the giving way. He
was well-built, fairly rugged, as tall as his elder brother and even
heavier. It was as though the life-blood of the one had been diverted into
the other's veins. And in spirits it was the same. Johnny was jaded, worn
out, without resilience, while his younger brother seemed bursting and
spilling over with exuberance.

The mocking chant rose louder and louder. Will leaned closer as he danced,
thrusting out his tongue. Johnny's left arm shot out and caught the other
around the neck. At the same time he rapped his bony fist to the other's
nose. It was a pathetically bony fist, but that it was sharp to hurt was
evidenced by the squeal of pain it produced. The other children were
uttering frightened cries, while Johnny's sister, Jennie, had dashed into
the house.

He thrust Will from him, kicked him savagely on the shins, then reached for
him and slammed him face downward in the dirt. Nor did he release him till
the face had been rubbed into the dirt several times. Then the mother
arrived, an anaemic whirlwind of solicitude and maternal wrath.

"Why can't he leave me alone?" was Johnny's reply to her upbraiding.
"Can't he see I'm tired?"

"I'm as big as you," Will raged in her arms, his face a mass of tears,